


Dirt Beneath the Dirt

by dietplainlite



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Drabble Collection, Drabbles, F/M, Force Bond, Reylo - Freeform, probably a lot of force bond, prompt fills
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-16 12:55:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5829736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dietplainlite/pseuds/dietplainlite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A place to collect Reylo prompt fills that are less than 1000 words.  The chapter titles are the prompts. Not rated M quite yet but at some point it'll get there so covering my bases.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. drink, contest, orange

Sometimes she manages a cool state of blue, hazy like a morning sky.  Mostly, it’s a dull orange, like the first hint of oxidation on a ship’s hull. That’s better than the red, when missteps and disappointments that would normally cause a shrug will ignite into flashes of scarlet that leave her gasping and those around her wary. They look at her as though she’s someone else.

She tells her Master that none of the rage is her own. It belongs to this other being who rides along, souls latched like twins in a womb.

Though they are constantly in a contest of wills, she knows it gives him no more pleasure than it gives her. As much as the blazing red burns her, he shrinks from the hazy blue as though it will smother him.

He tells his Master that none of it is his own serenity. That he will drink of it only to drain her of it.

They circle. They collide.  They retreat, taking bits of each other as they go.


	2. penance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a prompt from roane72 on tumblr

There are things they keep secret.

Almost everything is laid bare. Otherwise, he’d never have made it off D’Qar alive.  As it is, he’s exiled, and only by his mother’s grace.

They know how sorry he is (truly.)  They know of Rey’s near fall and of the last minute mercy she bestowed on him. 

They know that she visits, occasionally.  That she acts as his guide as he grasps at what he can of the light. 

There is always an armed escort, but even they must sleep.  And in those hours she takes a much firmer hand. 

She has become almost as adept at telekinesis and affect mind as he, though it helps that he’s amenable to her desires. (She says that so far his is the only mind she can outright read.)  He lowers his barriers, lets her in to rifle through his mind freely, poking at tender bruises and grazing open wounds, demanding his remorse for every hideous deed she uncovers. 

He also allows her unfettered access to his body and this is where his salvation lies. In the ropes she fashions from thin air.  In the hard pull of her hands in his hair and the constriction of the Force on his throat. She dances on a line he leapt across years ago but always, always remains resolutely in control.  Her face is dispassionate as she administers his punishment, and as she cleans him up after, wiping his sweaty brow, tending to any physical wounds, flooding their connection with golden light.

It is only after, in moments where she is unguarded, that she falls apart and swears that this is the last time. That it’s sick and twisted and that she cannot help him, not like this.

Yet always, always, she returns.


	3. Queen of Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill for mnemehoshiko on tumblr

The planet of Soania is ruled by four elemental monarchs. The high reaches of the northern mountain ranges are the domain of Air.

On the day that Rey was restored to the throne as Queen Bereah, Protector of the Highlands. Kylo Ren, exiled prince of both Naboo and Alderaan, sat at the edge of a waterfall, on a peak opposite the fortress, watching the procession make its way from the forest to the fortress lawn.

The Queens of Fire and Ice were in attendance, as well as the King of Earth, riding in landspeeders decked in regalia. Kylo focused his vision, able to zoom in on single faces with a thought. Rey’s landspeeder was topped with a square frame, hung with curtains, like the litters from ancient stories.  There was something strange about it. He focused his attention on it, on the mind of the litter’s occupant. He brushed against a stranger.

“It’s a proxy,” a voice said behind him.  He whirled around.  Rey stood between two boulders, robes of silvery grey flowing around her, a simple circlet of platinum on her head, hair in a long braid. Her lightsaber was clipped at her belt and she held her staff, loosely at her side.

Kylo Ren stood.  “A proxy.”

“It’s not like I plan on staying here and ruling.  She’s a distant relative. Only a few years younger than me and familiar with the customs of this planet.”

“But you’re not abdicating.”

“I was advised not to.  By your mother.”

“Ah. She’s still not over that, then.”

“What?”

“One of the worst political errors of her life.  You should ask her about it.”

“Will it cause her pain?”

“Probably.”

“Why are you here?”

“I’d thought about asking for sanctuary,” he quipped.

She inhaled, nostrils flaring, her grip tightening on her staff.

“Why would I ever subject these peaceful people to that?”

“I know it’s impossible.”

“You should leave.”

“I should.”

“Then go.”

“I can’t exactly get to my ship from here,” he said, indicating the path behind her.

With dignity, she raised her chin and stepped to the side, gesturing for him to pass. Not taking his eyes off of her, he brushed past her close enough to feel the heat of her body, then turned, walking backward on the path until she disappeared from sight. 

He felt her release of breath in the Force as he turned to run.

As he rose above the trees in his ship, she stood there still, at the edge of the waterfall, the colors of the people of her home planet resplendent below her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "One of the worst political errors" of Leia's life is a reference to an incident in Bloodline.


	4. The Lack Thereof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fill for the prompt "Kylo loses Force sensitivity" from rex-luscus on tumblr

Luke Skywalker had told Kylo Ren that such a thing as this was possible, and that if it ever happened, it’d be like going deaf, blind, mute and numb all at once.

That’s not exactly how it had gone.

She’d warned him, her voice deep and commanding, sending a frisson of apprehension down his spine. He’d advanced anyway, and then, there’d been nothing but light.

A wall of light. No. Four walls of light, surrounding him, reaching up into infinity.

And as suddenly, it had gone, and he was left on the ground, weak, alone, his whole being reduced to pain. And nothingness.

Alone with a void like a sucking wound at the center of his chest, and his soul gasping in agony.

And she had the audacity to be merciful. After dealing him a blow worse than any he’d inflicted on another living being, she had knelt beside him, pushed his hair back from his face, and told him it was for the best. That he was safe.

If he’d been able to use the Force, he would have choked her.  Stars, he would have choked her with his bare hands if he had the strength.

She’d carried him to her (Han Solo’s) ship, thrown over her shoulder like a sack of scavenged goods, and laid him out in a bunk.

“Please don’t try anything, even if you can,” she’d murmured as she injected him with a sedative.

When they reached whatever forsaken planet the Resistance had established as a base, he’d been thrown in a bacta tank to treat his physical wounds.  He opened his eyes once to find her staring at him. As soon as their eyes met, she turned away.

He remained in the med bay, barely conscious, without the use of any further sedatives.  Once, when he seemed to be sleeping, he overheard Dr. Kalonia speaking with General Organa.

“Is he dying?”

“I’m sorry to say I don’t know, General. There’s nothing physically wrong with him. If the Commander did what she said she did, he may have suffered a mortal spiritual wound, but that’s not my area of expertise.”

Drifting into real sleep, he thought for a moment that he heard a familiar tune, hummed low, but soon there was nothing.

He awoke again to urgent whispers. The girl and Skywalker.

“What was the point if he’s going to die anyway? Running him through would have been more merciful.”

“What is the cost, though, if you allow him his powers back? Here? On a base with thousands of people? Will you unleash him on them at his most angry?”

“You’ll just let him die, then? Slowly? Or spend the rest of his life in limbo?”

“It’s not my decision to make.”

“What does _she_ want, then?”

“The same thing she’s always wanted. Her son back, alive and whole.”

“Then I’ll take him off planet to do it.”

“What will you do, after?”

“He won’t hurt me.”

After a long silence, Skywalker sighed. “Go. Tell Leia your plan.”

When the girl had gone, Skywalker came to Kylo’s side.

“I can’t imagine the pain you must be in,” he said, covering Kylo’s hand with his, warmth seeping into his bones from the touch. “None of us wanted this for you. We just want you to find your way back.  The path is there, it’s always there.

Kylo opened his eyes, he couldn’t move or speak but he let his mind fall open. Skywalker had always been more adept at reading feelings than thoughts but he could dive inside an open mind. He let him see that this was a surer torture than any he ever inflicted upon a captive. That his entire soul was a wound. That he had been cut off not just from his power but from the essence of life itself. Then it was too much and he dropped into the darkness again as his uncle whispered his given name.

He woke up in a field, a hazy purple sky above and Rey sitting beside him, weaving little white flowers into a crown. She sensed his waking and turned to him.

“Your mother said no, for the sake of the galaxy, and I took you anyway. You’ll have supplies to last several days. Once I leave atmosphere, I’ll transmit your location to the First Order. I don’t know what’s waiting for me back on base.  I may be tried for treason.  Every murder you commit from now on will be on my head, which means I’ll need to kill you fairly as soon as possible.”

Setting her flower crown aside, she crouched beside him, placing her hands on his chest. Light poured into the void in his chest, as painful as the absence, but it was followed by the cooling comfort of the darkness, in equal measure. When she took her hands away, he was walloped by the return of his senses, as though the energy of the entire planet, the galaxy, the universe, welcomed him at once, and he began to laugh as it all flowed through him, cradling him, plucking at him, whispering to him as it always had.

By the time he sat up, she’d retreated, standing twenty yards away, hand on her saber.

“Go,” he shouted. “I want you to live to regret this.”

She turned and ran to the waiting ramp of her (Han Solo’s) ship, and as the old junker took off, he laid back down in the tall grass and, for the first time in years, laughed.


	5. Couples Costumes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from anonymous on tumblr

“A cultural event that will help me explore my English heritage,” is what Rey had called it. He’d reluctantly agreed, because even if it was a stuffy tea party, there would be free food.  Like most college students, Kylo Ren would suffer through almost anything for free food, even if it did involve watercress sandwiches.

The proposition became more intriguing when she told him it was a costume party, or “fancy dress” as she’d called it.  She’d picked up a lot of English words and phrases since finding her birth parents. And after she told him she’d take care of his costume, he didn’t think anything more of it until the day of.

Looking in the mirror before going to the party, he has never regretted a series of choices more. Not even the ones that led to his being cut off from his family.

Rey is pleased as punch. Standing beside him in her long robe and clerical collar, hair pulled back and hands clasped in front of her, she looks almost beatific.

"It’s a bit chilly out,” she says.  “You can wear your long coat until we get there.”

Kylo looks at himself in the mirror again. “Where the hell did you even find a Playboy bunny costume in my size?”

“You are aware of how many drag stores there are in this town, right?”

“No, I'm not,” he says.  He tilts his head and peers at himself.  She’d done a good job with his makeup. Eyeliner might not be a bad idea in everyday life. “I’m never going to judge a girl for not shaving her legs again.”

“Good,” Rey says, handing him his coat.  “Now, off we pop.”

“And you’re certain everyone else will be dressed as…”tarts and vicars?”

“That’s what the invitation says. Now come on.”

He spares one last look in the mirror before putting on his coat.  He has to admit, his legs look extraordinary, and green is his color.


	6. lift, look, locks,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm going through my backlog of prompts so these are all so so so so old. This one was from mnemehoshiko

“If I let you in, will you promise to talk this out rationally?”

Silence on the other side of the door, then she huffs loudly.  “Who says I’m not being rational?”

“There was nothing rational about your behavior earlier.”

In answer, the door unlocks and slides open. Rey slips through before he can close and lock it again.

“Seriously?” he says to her.

“You’re lucky I waited that long.”

“I think you need to revisit our lessons on boundaries. Just because we _can_ unlock doors with our minds doesn’t mean we _should_.”

“I see you haven’t fired your therapist, yet,” she says, stalking past him and flopping onto the bed.

He can barely look at the bed. “No. No plans to, either.” She lifts the coverlet and wiggles underneath it, pulling it over her head. Her behavior isn’t promising, but at least she’s not attacking him.

 “Does he know?” She says. “About the…you know.”

“The sex?”

“Yes,” he sighs, moving to sit on the very edge of the bed.  She’s been out for a run. He doesn’t mind her sweat on his sheets. It may be the last time it ever gets there.

“Why did you tell him? It was one time.”

“More than that.”

“One _night_ , then.”

“And a morning.”

She groans, and Force launches a pillow at his head. He catches it and holds it in his lap.

“He can’t tell anyone. Therapy droids have the strictest confidentiality settings and insane data encryption.” She shrugs and burrows deeper under his blanket. “No one is going to find out. You don’t have to leave.”

“I’m not leaving because I’m afraid people will find out!” she says, throwing off the cover and sitting up, red faced and wild eyed.

“Why, then?”

She gapes at him, and the air around her seems to ripple with her frustration. “You idiot,” is all she can manage before throwing herself back down on the bed.

Kylo gets down on the floor, on his knees, and lifts the edge of the blanket. Her hair covers most of her face, with one eye peeking out. “It won’t happen again if you don’t want it to. You don’t have to leave.”

“That’s the problem,” she whispers. “I do want it to.”

The tightening those words cause in his groin nothing compared to the hope that blooms in his chest.  In the years since they first began training students together, they’ve maintained a cordial, yet distant relationship. They’ve gained control of their bond enough that they only use it to communicate when they’re apart, or when they need to communicate silently. They train together, they train students side by side, and they’ve been on numerous scouting trips, yet they hardly ever share meals, both retreating to their quarters at the end of the day. All the while, though he’s mostly kept it buried, he’s held out the smallest sliver of hope that she’ll turn to him one day, finally ready to fulfill the potential they’d only glimpsed when they first connected, during the war.

Three nights ago, she showed up at his door, launching herself at him as soon as he opened it, her mouth crashing into his so hard he saw stars, tearing at his clothes and hair.  He thought at first that she was drunk, but she swore she wasn’t, only saying that she was lonely, so lonely.

He knew he shouldn’t give in, but it was too late from the moment she kissed him. He’d wanted her too badly, for too long, and she gave herself to him fully, over and over, opening fully to him through their bond and with her body. He let himself think that she was finally ready to give him her heart.

In the morning, before dawn, they woke and did it again, slowly, sleepily, but he could already feel her pulling away. As she dressed, she told him it couldn’t happen again.

She barely spoke to him for two days, and then this morning, they met up to spar, and she told him she would be leaving, indefinitely, taking some of the students for some advanced training on Ach-To.

As they sparred, he tried to convince her to stay, but she got angry, until they were seriously fighting, and he ended up on his back, her lit saber to his throat. He hadn’t seen that look in her eyes in years.

They both froze, and she extinguished her saber and ran from the room. He laid there for a long time before going to his quarters, and for the first time, locking the door.

“Why are you so afraid?” he asks her, now.

“Why aren’t you?”

“I am, but not enough that I want you to leave.”

“All of this is so good, though. Everything we’ve built. It’s working. What happens if we give in to whatever this is between us and it doesn’t work out, and we end up hating each other?”

“What if it does work out, though?” he asks. She starts sobbing, and he climbs into the narrow bed with her, holding her against his chest as she cries. “Have you thought about getting your own therapy droid?” he asks, when she’s quieted down.

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Does that mean you’re staying?”

“I’ll think about it.”

He kisses the top of her head. It’s enough of a promise for now.


	7. Ancient Greece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thesovereignempress requested an ancient Greece AU. Since I'm not all that familiar with mythology or the pantheon beyond basic knowledge, I went with something I'm a bit more knowledgeable in, Greek theatre.

The mask is fearsome, the stiff linen dyed an oily black, a long snout like a wild dog, and silver horns curling around the ears. It’s her finest work, the costliest commission she’s taken on in her career, and she’s finished it with no time to spare. The festival begins tomorrow, and her patron should show up to collect at any moment.

Rey hasn’t met him yet, having only communicated with a servant, but she gleaned a lot of the man’s personality from the detailed drawings, made with sharp, bold lines that sometimes cut through the parchment. His servant was well dressed, but nervous, always keen to see her progress and extracting promises from her that the mask was her priority.

Considering this patron paid more than four other patrons combined, she had no trouble putting it first, and turning down more than one commission to ensure she had the time.

She sets it on a stand and admires it in the afternoon sunlight, then down at her own stained hands and chiton. She considers changing before he arrives, but decides against it. She’s never worried about her appearance before, no matter how wealthy the patron. This is her work shop, and she’s been working. It would be silly for her to look pristine at the end of a long day. Besides, the servant may be the one who comes to pick the mask up.

A large shape blots out the light coming through the door, and she looks up. The man in her doorway is tall enough that he must stoop to enter. His pale skin contrasts with his dark hair and the long black chiton he wears, and his lips stand out like a berry nestled in a bowl of cream.  He looks her up and down, and then looks at the mask.

“Is this it?” he asks.

“Are you—”

“Kylo Ren, yes,” he says, picking up the mask. As he studies it, his stern look gives way to wonder. “You did this work yourself?”

“Yes,” she says. Her master only comes in occasionally to make sure she hasn’t burned the place down.

He looks her over.  “You’re not even old enough to grow a beard. How is your work this advanced?”

Rey looks down at the mask, pushing down the panicked lump in her throat, wishing she had changed into a longer chiton, to hide the shape of her legs.

“I’m older than I look,” she says. “And I started training when I was barely taller than this table.”

These statements are both true. Her master discovered her playing in the yard of one of his patrons. She had been sculpting animals from the clay earth, and the other children were wearing the masks she’d fashioned from scraps of cloth and broken jewelry.  Her parents, who worked for the patron, were glad to have her off their hands, having 2 other daughters and only one son. She has lived as a boy ever since.

They had always known it would become harder as she got older, that short hair wouldn’t be enough to disguise her delicate features forever, especially as her reputation grew, but she’s still thrown off balance. It doesn’t help that this man’s very presence throws her off, in a way no man ever has. He’s too big for the space, somehow, and there’s an energy about him that she’s both drawn to and terrified of.

“I see,” he says. He looks her over again, and takes out his money bag.

“Are you—an actor?” she asks.

“Playwright,” he says. “This is for my lead actor.”

“Tragedy?”

“Obviously,” he says, a hint of a smile on his face. He takes some coins out of his bag and hands them over. “Your final payment.”

“This is too much,” she says.

“You went above and beyond.” He turns to leave, but stops in the doorway and turns to face her. “Will you be attending the festival?”

“I’ll be there, but not in the audience. I have to remain close by in case any repairs are needed.”

“I’m holding a feast the last evening of the festival. I’d like you to attend. I’ll send my servant with details.”

“Sir, I’m not sure if that’s appropriate.”

“Everything’s appropriate during the Dyonisia,” he says. “Your master may accompany you.”

“Thank you for the invitation. I’ll ask him. Good luck!”

“Who needs luck when the gods are on your side?” he says.  He’s gone in an instant, and Rey is aware of the sounds of the city and the heat of the day, and the weight of the gold in her hand. She walks to the door, looking up and down the road to catch a glimpse of him, but he’s lost in the crowd.

 


	8. Labyrinth AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From an anon prompt on Tumblr. Since I'm not a huge fan of the movie, this is what I came up with. It's in The Great Big No universe.

“I swear to God if you say it again I’m going home.”

“You’re literally in the middle of cooking dinner.”

“Yeah, and you can finish it yourself, and sleep alone,” she says, pointing at him with the chef’s knife. He backs away, hands up, and she goes back to chopping carrots. This is the first time she’s ever made Bolognese, and she has to do it with _lentils_ , which she’s never managed to cook without turning them to mush, and his shenanigans aren’t helping her focus.

He wanders toward the refrigerator, humming while he peruses its contents.

“Kylo,” she warns.

“I’m not saying anything,” he says. He closes the fridge and sidles up to her. “That’s an even dice you’ve got going there.” Still humming, he moves behind her and wraps his arms around her waist.

“You’re aware I have an enormous knife in my hand, right?”

He pulls her against him and she lets go of the knife as his hands roam over her. “Rey,” he whispers in her ear. “You know what?”

“What?” she sighs.

He presses his cheek against hers and croons, low in her ear, “I move the stars for no one.”

“Fuck _off_!” She wiggles out of his arms.

“Okay, but do you want me to get one of those puffy shirts or what?” He looks amazing, leaning against the counter, but she wants to wipe the shit eating grin off his face.

“I’m never telling you anything again.”

 


	9. corset, satin, ties, laugh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt on Tumblr from mnemehoshiko.
> 
> I promise I will get back to The Great Big No as soon as possible. I think my brain needed a bit of a break from it, and I've been working on my backlog of prompts to try to flex my creative muscles a little.

Hands that big shouldn’t be able to do work so delicate, nor do it so swiftly, but his fingers fly. Over the front of her stays, fastening every hook, and in the back, relacing, pausing to tie a small knot in the satin cord, joining it again, after ripping it apart in his earlier haste.

“You should go,” she says. “I can do the rest.” The dress itself will slip over her head. On this planet, the traditional garb is simple, except for the undergarments. She doesn’t want to delve too much into what that says about their society. This was meant to be a quick job, an information grab. In and out.

“Ha!” she laughs and covers her mouth.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just a stupid thought. Why are you on the floor?” He’s currently on his hands and knees, peering under the sofa.

“My glove disappeared.” He sits up on his knees, flipping his hair back, but half of it still hangs in his face.

“We can’t do this again,” she says, because she’s thinking about how nice it would be to do it again, right now.

“Sneaking around? You’re right. We can stop at any time.”

“No, not the sneaking around part. I mean, yes, sort of. But I don’t think I mean it the same way you do.”

“I think, deep down, you do.”

The undulations of his emotions in the Force have become background noise to her, as mundane as the rise and fall of his chest, only noticeable when there’s a major change. (Interestingly, spikes in his breathing and his feelings tend to coincide.) Now, tenderness rolls off him, with undertones of shame. He still hasn’t shaken the notion that whatever he feels for her is a weakness, even though he has no one to answer to anymore.

“What if I do? It doesn’t matter, because what you want is impossible.”

“What do I want?”

She never wants to murder him more than when he does this, squeezing confessions from her like the worshipers of the Force squeezed the juice from Tuanulberries to make their ink and dye. He doesn’t understand that some things are only real once they’re said aloud.

Or maybe he understands perfectly.

“You want to tell everyone that we—about this. Whatever this is.”

He’s found his glove, and he doesn’t answer her until he’s pulled it on. “What’s the worst thing that could happen, if we do?”

“You’re joking.”

“No.”

“I don’t know, the entire galaxy could burn?”

“You say that like it’s not already on fire.”

She stops, feeling in her bones the same way she does when feeling the slightest shift in the strength of a beam in a Star Destroyer as she makes her way across, knowing how she proceeds could alter the course of her life, or even end it.

“It may be, but I’m not going to throw anthracite on it.”

He stands up and walks toward her. She lets him, fighting the instinct to back away. He chews the inside of his cheek as he looks her over, then takes her hand, turning it over and kissing her palm. It sends a shiver straight to her core and a dagger to her heart, like it’s the first time they touched. Like he hadn’t been inside her minutes ago.

“Or it could save everything.”

“You’re a bigger dreamer than me,” she says.

“Maybe,” he says. And then the sounds of the party draw closer and he’s out the side door before she can draw another breath.

“Maybe,” she whispers.


	10. I Can't Watch You Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a fic starter prompt from draganchitsa on tumblr.

She is everything.

From the first moment he saw her in the forest of Takodana—hell, from the moment he heard of her existence in the space above Jakku, she has occupied a significant part of his waking thoughts and a larger portion of his dreams.

Everything since that day has led to this moment and he’ll be damned if it ends like this.

He’s pulled her from the wreckage of her ship, some light thing, barely more substantial than a Tie.  Why she would choose this battle to abandon the Falcon is a mystery. That piece of garbage has a preternatural will to survive. Rey’s injuries are catastrophic. He can only hope her will is as strong.

He lays her down on a bunk in his shuttle. A weak ripple of her consciousness reaches him through the Force, thready as the pulse in her wrist. Her eyes flutter open and she looks at him, brow furrowed, a question forming in her mind though she’s too weak to form it with her lips.

“It’s over. The First Order is finished, and there won’t be any remnants this time. Stormbreaker Squadron will make sure of it.” He speaks softly as he assesses her injuries.

A nasty gash runs across her forehead, but she seems to have escaped a brain injury, however, and most of her bones are intact, minus her right clavicle, and femur, and a few ribs.  The most concerning injuries are a collapsed lung and a badly damaged liver. Her breath comes in short gasps, the strain causing excruciating pain in her abdomen, worsening the internal bleeding. The base here has been reduced to rubble, and she could die before he can get her to another base or ship with a bacta tank.  

“Ben,” she sighs, as her face slackens.

“Rey, no,” he says. “I need your help. I can’t do this by myself.”

“Hurts,” she says. “Let me sleep.”

“I know it hurts. I can feel it, but you can’t go to sleep or you’ll die.”

She coughs, and they both shudder with the pain of it, but it serves to rouse her a bit and she tries to focus on his face. “Tell me what to do.”

“We’ll start with your lung. I just need you to focus your energy on it, add to my energy. You’ll feel better soon.”

“Done this before?”

“Nothing this complex. But Rey, I can’t watch you die, so this has to work.” He places one hand on her chest and she flinches, her pain echoing in his own ribs. She puts her hand over his. Her eyes, green like forest moons and full of tears, lock onto his.

“I trust you,” she says.

He closes his eyes, and lets everything fall away, except her stuttering breathing, her heart beat, the whoosh of the blood through her veins, the bursts of alarm going off in her body as it frantically tries to knit itself back together.

For the first time in years, he allows himself to be a conduit for the Force, instead of its master, merely creating a path for it from his body into hers, boosting her own power. Somehow, he feels stronger than he ever has.

The process is slow and painful, but finally Rey gasps as her lung fills with air. She takes another huge breath, letting it out with a sharp laugh.

“Hey, we need to focus,” he whispers. He moves their hands over her liver, and they begin again. It’s harder now; they’re both exhausted, and the damage here is more extensive. She nearly passes out again, but he brings her back, talking to her softly about different food she has yet to try. Once she’s stable, he straps her into the trunk.

 “I have to get us out of here. I know you’re still hurt, but you’re out of danger. Stay here. I’ll come back, and we’ll fix the rest of you.”

She looks at him and puts her hand on his cheek. “Is it really over?”

“Yes.”

“We won?”

“Definitely.”

“And you’re still…are you going to stay?”

“With the Resistance? Won’t they be redundant soon?”

“Ben,” she says. “With me.”

He stops breathing.  For the past few hours, life has been nothing but moment to moment, keeping panic at bay as he searched for her, as he carried her to his ship, as he begged her not to die and helped her heal. And now she’s laid out a future longer than hyperspace lane in front of them.

“Of course,” he says. “Wherever you are.”

“Good. Now get us to wherever.”


End file.
